


Hurt Me

by daisydactyl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Drabble, Female pronouns for Grell, Fighting, Gen, Implied versions of self-harm, Other, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisydactyl/pseuds/daisydactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grell has found herself in another fight, but rather than fighting back the way she's entirely capable of she indulges in the feeling of the pain. A little drabble to look into her thoughts on the situation and why she continues to put herself in painful situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt Me

Grell was always one to take dangerous risks. Risks on the field, in relationships, in almost everything she did. She could never know just how her choices would pan out, but that was the fun of it for her—the risk of reward or punishment for her choices. 

When she was successful it was a time to celebrate and let her ego inflate as it usually did; but when she failed the aftermath was her deserved punishment. One would be foolish to believe that physical pain was the only kind of punishment in world, she had learned long ago that almost any pain could make her feel alive. 

Pain had always soothed the monster inside her, be it her own or someone else’s; somehow it made sense in her mind. It brought about a release of her soul, of every pent up emotion and captive thought she held. Whatever pain she could inflict would soothe her monster and calm her rage almost as well as pain that was inflicted on her—although sometimes what was inflicted on her brought about a much more pleasurable feeling when it was done rather than the simple high of her spouting violence onto others.

There was a certain feeling of validation that came from someone bringing pain to her, especially when they smiled. When they smiled for a moment she felt like she had done something right, as if her worth was increased by that single facial expression. 

Her pains were well deserved, punishment and payment. She hated to admit it but she had grown to need it. Pain caressed her body like a lover when she had none, was always there in any time of need, provided a gate that she could open for her feelings whenever she had need of it, kept her grounded in the now when she felt like she would spiral out of control—it had become her vice.

As long as she could feel it everything would fall into place, her mind would sharpen or it would fade depending on what she needed in the moment. When she caught sight of a smile before a fist or a strike her heart would soar for a brief moment, it was almost like game for her. When she saw hard narrowed eyes in the split second it was enough to strengthen her resolve to rise again. That’s why she needed pain now, why she would likely always need it.

The way blood caressed her skin with its warmth almost never failed to bring about a high that she didn’t want to come down from. Of course it didn’t always have to be hers, no she could easily get that same feeling from someone else’s blood. In fact, she found that having her skin coated with the blood of others actually made that feeling just a little better, it provided a sense of accomplishment that was unlike anything else. They were the sacrifice she needed to appease her monster and she was not one to destroy without some kind of enjoyment from it.

Even so, pain was still pain. Sometimes it left her in tears with wounds that would not heal quickly or wincing for days on end, but in her mind it was well deserved. It seemed like the days that she didn’t want it were the days that it came in and endless wave; all in the form of harsh words and hateful glares that cut through her facades with ease, or sometimes just mumbles of indifference, and on the worst days she was just ignored as if she had never been real.

Those were days when she was certain the horrible stings and aches in her heart were truly a punishment. 

When there was pain in her heart that seemed to bore into the very marrow of her bones she felt lost, as if she would fall into the darkness of her mind and never find her way out again. She would rather have any physical pain she could take than spend a single night like that—but course things didn’t always work out that way for her. 

That’s why she was on her hands and knees now. Perhaps picking a fight in a bar wasn’t the best way to deal with the paralyzing feelings in her heart—and letting them beat her down into the dirt certainly didn’t make the idea any better, but she felt like she needed it. 

She felt blood falling from lips after she received another harsh kick to her stomach, she’d likely have some damage that would take a few days to fully heal. Even so, she didn’t move to defend herself, instead she let the pain wash over like a wave of relief. They could take out all their anger on her like this and she would not be left in that dark place inside her, this would pull her back from the edge. 

She wasn’t sure if she would have to stop them herself or they would give up just before she hit her limit—or maybe she’d let it go past that tonight. She was so close to spiraling into the darkness of her mind, she couldn’t let that happen.

The cold pain in her heart brought on by that look of humor as they mocked her body, her desires, everything she was—and yet they acted as if she didn’t exist, such a cruelty that she thought was reserved for the devil himself. Apparently it wasn’t though, this eternity was the worst kind of hell for her, forever trapped and doomed to a fate she couldn’t possibly change only to have the wounds in her heart and mind mocked and belittled.

But she didn’t need to think about that when she was being broken by so many kicks to her body. She could punish this body for trapping her and keep herself from falling into the darkness at the same time—it was perfect. 

One of them delivered a harsh kick to the center of her back, enough to force her to fall to the ground. She hit it with a dull thud, blood trickling from her face into the dirt beneath her. She could faintly hear them saying something to her, but she didn’t care right now. She was just letting the pain wash over her, taking the time to catalog the various aches and stings all over her, the areas that were cut or bruised and the possibly cracked boned—all deserved. 

From the corner of eyes she could see their retreating forms, it seemed that they’d finished with her. That was when she finally let a real sound leave her mouth.

She couldn’t tell if she was crying or laughing, maybe a little bit of both. Gods it hurt, every movement of her chest stung harshly as thick almost bark like sounds left her throat. It could’ve been the crying of pain and suffering, but it could’ve been the laughter of a woman driven mad—but for her it was closer to a mix of them both.

Grell lay in the dirt a little longer, pain ebbing through every part of her body and blood darkening her clothes and the ground beneath her. But finally the terrifying sound of her voice began to fade until it was just a faint whimper as she began to pick herself up from the ground. It was hard, the way her body screamed at her with every movement, the pain stinging sharply before it went back to the endless throb. Even so she knew her own strength, she still had enough to shakily pull herself back to her feet.

As she stood up she turned her face up towards the moon, face coated with a thick mixture of blood, sweat, tears, and dirt. Her eyes were wide with a maddening look of anger and sadness, pointed teeth peeking out from beneath her lips as a disbelieving grin slowly broke out over her face. Pain was her vice, always there to pull her back whenever she was dangerously close to the edge.


End file.
